


Kiss Your Past Goodbye

by seori



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Forum: Goldenlake, Malorie's Peak Prompt, Role Reversal, The Dancing Dove
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2018-08-31 04:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8564683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seori/pseuds/seori
Summary: A teenage Alanna finds her way to the Court of the Rogue... where Johnny Conte sits on the throne. Trouble is (naturally) afoot. For Fief Goldenlake's Rogue Week.





	1. Something's Gotta Give

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to Lisa/Lisafer, as ever and apologies for my interpretation of the Rogue accent.

Alanna glanced up at the Dancing Dove, judging that, at this time, it might be best to make her way through the back. Evening was setting in by that point, and the King liked his court to assemble before him in advance of any night-time undertakings.

She was late, and it was too much to hope that her absence had been overlooked entirely, but by sneaking in the back, she might at least pretend she hadn't been gone quite so long.

"Missin' again, is it?"

The King's cousin stood before her, and Alanna felt her lip curl up in response. She didn't trust this man, couldn't explain how her dislike went deep into her bones. Until he stepped out of line, it was best to stuff the feeling down, else she'd wind up with her throat slit or worse. Sometimes, though, she couldn't help herself. "What's it t'ye?" she asked, accent thickening through her nerves. She folded her arms across her chest and planted her feet firmly in case he rushed her. Roger wasn't a born fighter, but displays of strength were commonplace here, so she'd learned.

"Makin' sure me cousin's lady's all in one piece," Roger said lazily, his eyes tracking over her. "Think it'd be a terrible shame if, well..."

A cold shiver ran up her spine; Alanna resisted the urge to react. He always referred to her with mocking deference - _milady_ \- almost as if he knew, but this veiled threat was an unwelcome addition. Not willing to pursue the conversation further, she pushed past him, letting her shoulder knock into his arm.

"Annie!"

This was a more pleasant disruption. Alanna allowed her friends to drag her over to their table though she refused to be dealt into the card game. Alex never played fairly, and she was too unsettled by Roger to be sure she wouldn't lose her entire purse to him.

"Thought ye were lost," Raoul said, eyes crinkling above his cards in a way that suggested he was teasing, however steady his tone. She often thought Raoul had something of her own story, that he was also of noble birth, but she was reticent to discuss it for fear of laying bare her own past. It was easier to let him pretend he was the son of a merchant who'd fallen on hard times.

"Seems to me everyone could do with keepin' their noses in their own business," Alanna said sourly. 

A now-familiar tug on her braid had her twisting in her seat to find Johnny grinning down at her. "Seems to _me_ ye should come when I ask."

"Should've got yerself a dog if tha' was yer aim," Alanna retorted, though she let him kiss away the insolence. It wouldn't do to start rumours of dissent in the King's bedchambers. She wouldn't give Roger any ammunition if she could help it.

"What if I ask very nicely?" Johnny murmured, so quiet she was certain she was the only one who heard.

Her face was aflame, and she wrapped her fingers in his collar, making sure he wouldn't pull away. "Got to make a report, haven't I?"

He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose, his palms landing on the top of the barrel behind her, effectively pinning her in place. "Five minutes, upstairs. Wait 'til their attention is elsewhere. What a fuss you make about enterin', every time."

Alanna scowled at him as he straightened, smirking, dominance asserted. As she turned around, Raoul was oddly intent on his cards, but Alex held her gaze for a moment, one brow raised, before he laid down the hand that, inevitably, crushed Raoul. If Raoul _had_ been raised noble, the stream of swearing he let loose subsequently was not befitting of his birthright. She clapped a hand to his back (though, really, he should know better than to play with Alex, especially after he'd been drinking), and rose, heading straight for the stairs.

Johnny hadn't yet made his escape, but she sat down on his bed anyway, pulling her hair free of its ties. It gave her the chance to look over his wall of trophies, over what Johnny took from the people who crossed him.

She shuddered now, in the privacy of the Rogue's bedroom. He had asked her, more than once, to be his queen. She loved him - of course she did. It was so easy to love Johnny, with his wicked grin, and habit of spinning stories for all the girls. She just wasn't ready to be Queen of the Rogue. It wasn't a life that promised longevity, not with the threat of Roger looming large, even though Johnny pressed hot promises of forever into her skin. 

Roger wouldn't let Johnny go, not even if Johnny gave it all up and went respectable. They'd be forever spooked by their own shadows.

That wasn't even the worst of it anymore. As Johnny crept into the room, her smile trembled. He seemed not to notice as he climbed onto the bed, and kissed the last of Good King George from her lips.


	2. On a Knife's Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for winter bingo over at Goldenlake! Prompts: affection - unexpected gift - reflection - fireplace - decoration

"You can't keep this up forever."

"I don't intend to keep this up forever," Alanna hissed back.

Her twin stared at her in silent judgement, and she was grateful for the reprieve as she fussed with her hair. Even with her limited time at court, she knew that it wasn't the rage to walk around looking like one had been dragged through a hedge backwards. It hadn't been a hedge, anyway. She touched her split lip, summoning a little magic to heal it over.

"You can tell me I don't know what I'm talking about all you want, but you can't keep calling it a coincidence when you've been attacked five times in the last month," Thom burst out.

Alanna set the mirror down, figuring things were as good as they were going to get. "Sweet Goddess, Thom, it's probably just some upstart rogue with his eye on the throne. I'll survive it; it was mostly too icy to fight back properly."

Thom resumed his pacing, though the room was so small that he only managed four steps before turning back. "I don't like it, Alanna. Everything's too finely balanced. If the King finds out you're with the Rogue, you're done, if the Rogue finds out you're with the King, you're done, if a new Rogue takes over, you're done. If the Rogue finds out you're noble, you're done - and here you are, walking around with _my face_."

A tight, constricting feeling wrapped itself around Alanna's chest. She took deep, steadying breaths. Thom was no good in a crisis, that was all. "Look, I'm only here for his mother. You just need to keep your head down, Thom. We'll be fine - you'll see. One more year of training, and then you can throw yourself at your books and never look outdoors again."

She expected Thom to smile at that, but he continued to look grim. "I think Myles wants to keep me at the palace. Research, or something. I'm trying to encourage him. I'd feel better if I could keep an eye on you."

"So you expect me to survive the year." Alanna gave him a wide smile. "That's good to know."

He closed his hands over hers, eyes intense. "Alanna, if you don't survive the year, I swear, I will bring you back just so I can kill you again."

\--

It was hard to shake off the gravity of her brother's expression, but Alanna did her best. She favoured breeches as a rule in the Lower City, but her noble persona required skirts. Unfortunately, it made sneaking around a great deal more difficult, though she found slipping through servants' entrances served her well.

"One of these days, you will have to tell me why you are so hard to track down."

Alanna fought to keep her face from erupting into a smile. "Perhaps first you could tell me why you have ambushed me? I thought I was meeting your mother - and these are her rooms, if I'm not mistaken?"

"You have caught me." King George hung his head in mock-shame. "All I ask is a kiss from my lady before I am sentenced."

She placed her hands on her hips, surveying him. It looked as though he was not long off the practise courts, and the ease with which he held himself was as appealing as ever. "Your sentence is that there will be no kissing, your Majesty. After all, I would not have kissed your mother when returning her supplies, and therefore I see no reason to kiss her proxy."

"Your reasoning is sound," George said mournfully. "Come, sit by the fire and let me warm that cold heart of yours."

"Yes, I likely would have sat a while with your mother," Alanna said thoughtfully, spreading her skirts to seat herself comfortably. "We would have talked of healing, mostly. I saw a young lass just last week - her leg had a gash this far apart."

He caught at her fingers as they demonstrated the width of the wound. "Anna. I have a delegation visiting from Galla. As inclined as I am to while away my hours with you, my court simply will not have it, and I suspect Prime Minister Malek will track me down even to my mother's rooms."

Disappointment flooded through her - ridiculous, when she hadn't even expected to see him that day. Ridiculous when even being in the palace put her in danger, let alone in fancy clothes, let alone with the _king_.

"You look like I told you I cancelled Midwinter. My point was that, well, I need to get to the point. I got you a present, and since I wasn't sure when you might show your face again, I thought I may as well give it to you now."

Alanna's hands trembled a little as he placed it on her palm, fingers lingering briefly against her skin. The dowager queen had been the only person for years who'd given her something that hadn't been stolen, but this didn't look much like healing supplies. It was a brooch, amethysts twinkling round the edges. "Sire, I - I wasn't expecting-"

"Of course not. Now, let us part ways as friends, because that is how you would have parted with my mother, but I would not be so churlish as to refuse a way of contacting you, should something come to mind."

It was risky. If she got too regular about her habits, Johnny would notice. Besides that, she loved Johnny. She was almost herself with Johnny.

She steeled herself. "How could I say no, when you ask so nicely?"

"I would rather hear 'no' from you than think I'd won a yes with all my ornaments," George said, hazel eyes troubled. "Anna, I don't mean to pressure you. Just - take the gift, and we'll go on as we have."

\--

Dismissive words aside, Alanna couldn't help thinking on George's comments as she walked home, the brooch pinned under her shirt. It was easy to slip out of the palace, after a detour via Thom's room to change back into her usual clothes. She should really have left the brooch with Thom, but an impulse made her keep it on her person. Johnny would likely assume she'd stolen it, anyway.

Perhaps it was this preoccupation that made her less cautious, or perhaps it would have happened regardless - she was vaguely aware of a yell, and then everything went black.


	3. Relatively Secure

When Alanna next opened her eyes, she had no idea where she was.

She fought a rising sense of panic, gingerly pulling herself into a sitting position. The room was spacious, tastefully decorated, and she was unbound and still in her clothes, though the knives in holsters at the small of her back had vanished. She closed her eyes, content that she was (probably) not in imminent danger, and giving into that sickly feeling in her head.

It must have been enough to lull her to sleep again, but she woke with a start, finding an unfamiliar man standing in her doorway.

"My, my, my, haven't we got ourselves into quite the predicament?"

Alanna rotated her ankle experimentally, and discovered that her back-up knife had definitely been taken. Still. Whatever this man wanted, she could handle him. She was conscious now, at least.

"You can stop plotting your escape." The man shut the door behind him and drew a chair up to Alanna's bedside. "Your fancy man would have my head, and I quite like my head, you see."

"Don't think I'll be going anywhere fast."

Her companion scoffed. "Annie, I barely know you, but I can already tell that you're a terrible liar."

Annie. She sagged in relief. She'd been horribly afraid that George was somehow involved with all this - she was reasonably certain she wasn't in the palace, but her surroundings were markedly nicer than anywhere in the Lower City. "All right. I'll promise to stay put for the next hour if you tell me who you are, and where I am."

"Excellent. I'm Gary, and you're staying in my house." He winked at her in an infuriating manner, but she had something to work from now. They were still in Corus, and not up by the palace. The room was nice, but not lavish. Gary was very likely one of the merchants Johnny dealt with from time to time.

"Well, Gary, seems I'm at yer disposal," Alanna replied, exaggerating her accent. She folded her hands in her lap and made sure to smile very wide. "Hittin' me head makes a girl awful thirsty."

Gary shook his head at her. "Sorry, Annie, strict instructions not to move you or let you out of my sight. Take it up with his Majesty if you like, but as I say, there are certain parts of me I'm rather attached to, and I'd much rather stay attached to them."

Seeing that she would get no further with this angle, she changed tack. "So, Gary. What kind of goods d'you trade in?"

If Gary was surprised she'd pegged him for a merchant, he didn't show it. "Textiles, mostly. Sometimes jewellery, for particular customers." He reached behind him, and threw a small, hard object that landed on Alanna's lap. "The King is a very particular customer."

The brooch. Alanna stared at it, turning it over in her hands. "Yer tellin' me the king has th' same likin' for shinies as me?"

"Something like that." Gary looked at her, a quirk to his mouth, and Alanna felt her pulse speed up. He was clever, this merchant boy, quick and guarded, and Alanna was sluggish and tired.

It was a small miracle that the door clicked open then, and Johnny slipped inside the room. "She lives," he said with a wink. He paid no mind to the fancy blankets and climbed straight into bed with her, boots and all. She didn't have much more than a glimpse at his tired and drawn face before he'd slipped an arm around her, tucking her into his chest.

"Gary here reckons I've been thievin' the King of Tortall 'imself," Alanna said around a yawn, snuggling into Johnny's warm body without protest. If it made Gary uncomfortable, so much the better.

"Is tha' so?" Johnny's voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke; Alanna shifted position so her ear was no longer leaning against it, taking care not to bring too much pressure on the back of her head. "Been gettin' t'know each other?"

"Gary here believes in starvin' people," Alanna said immediately, tracing an invisible pattern over Johnny's tunic. "I begged an' pleaded, an' 'm _so_ thirsty, Johnny."

Gary barked out a laugh. "All right, Mistress Annie. You win - I'll get a maid to fix you some lunch. Johnny, will you be wanting to dine with your lady?"

"In a while," Johnny answered, sounding casual even as his fingers tightened around Alanna's shoulder. "No maids, Gary. We'll be wantin' service from yer own fair hands, there's a good lad."

Alanna expected Gary to scoff at that, but he simply shrugged and left the room. The locking sound made her jolt upright.

"That rat-faced ba-"

Johnny clapped a hand over her mouth, and his eyes were serious as he turned her to face him. "Shh, Annie, I asked him t' lock us in. We're cousins - I trust Gary with me life. With yer life."

All Alanna could think of was how little she trusted Johnny's _other_ cousin. 

"So. Were ye plannin' on tellin' me about any o' this, or jus' waitin' fer me t' find yer corpse?"

Alanna winced. She'd only told Thom about all the attacks, but she supposed Johnny might have pieced it together fairly quickly if he'd been talking to his people. She was a master at brushing Thom off; she suspected Johnny wouldn't be quite so easy to sway. "Nothin' I can't handle."

"Didn't look like ye were handlin' it t'me. Looked like ye were face down on th' ground. Looked like ye were dead."

Johnny's flat, emotionless tone stung, each word chipping away at her. She put her hands on his face, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to touch him. "Johnny Conte - if you don't think it'd take more than a couple o' stinkin' cowards t' finish me off, you-"

He kissed her, putting urgency behind it. She took a second to breathe, unbalanced. One of the older girls in the Rogue had once told her that when Johnny kissed you, you knew about it, and Alanna had thought it a silly thing to say until Johnny had pulled her aside during their Midwinter festivities. He'd told her with a twinkle in his eye that he wanted to check she wasn't suffering too much from the cold, and then kissed her so sweetly, she lost all feeling in her feet.

"If I can't keep ye safe, what's th' point in any of it?" he whispered. Sometimes, it was easy to forget he was only a handful of years older than her; he commanded such an air of authority.

"I'm safe now," Alanna replied, and a grin flashed across Johnny's face right as he flipped their positions.

"An' I'll be checkin' every inch o' ye, Annie." His fingers made short work of her clothing, exposing every scrape she had picked up in the fall. It was a habit of theirs, usually after a fight, to lay in bed and catalogue every injury. Usually, Alanna was on the other side of this. She thought she ought to feel a little too vulnerable, but Johnny approached it with such care and tenderness that she was only aware of the two of them in the here and now.

He gestured for her to sit upright as he examined the back of her head. It was only when his fingers knotted through hers that she realised what he was about - a rush of her Gift swept through her, and she felt an echo of the magic round her skull. The headache she'd been vaguely aware of abruptly eased, and he grinned at her, cocky.

"Next time ask afore ye start stealin' from me," she grumbled.

"Reckon I'll make it up t'ye instead," he said, beginning a trail of kisses from her ear down the line of her throat.

She knew where this was headed. "Johnny - Gary - the door."

Johnny shrugged one shoulder, a careless, elegant gesture. "His mama taught him t' knock."


	4. You Can't Always Get What You Want

"If'n I was needin' a shadow, I'd say so," Alanna grumbled.

Johnny smirked at her, eyes crinkling in the way she liked so much. "Annie, queen o' my heart, there ain't a soul alive who would believe that. I say so. I don't want nobody's hands on my precious goods."

"Keep talkin' that same way, yer hands won't be on these goods, neither," she snapped back at him, temper climbing as he laughed in response.

"Annie - Annie, quit shovin' me, Annie-"

Finally, she acquiesced and stilled, allowing him to pull her close to him. "Things're - well, there's summat stirring, Annie, an' I don't like it. Gary got followed t'other day, then his house gets broken into, his lady gets scared. He's jus' a merchant, Annie, it ain't right that someone is takin' a swing at him instead o' me. An' six times - six times someone gets me girl?" He chuckled as Alanna blinked at him, surprised, but it wasn't the amused rumble she was accustomed to. "I got eyes all over this city, Annie, and ye best not be forgettin' it."

Alanna swallowed tightly. He didn't mean - he couldn't mean that he'd found out about King George. It was just a couple of kisses, nothing really. Just a dalliance with another life. A sick feeling burned its way through her stomach as Johnny wrapped his arms around her. He couldn't know; he wouldn't hold her this way if he did.

His hand dropped to her necklace, and it took a second before she realised he was toying with her pregnancy charm. "Annie. I - it don't take a scholar to work out ye didn't grow up on th'streets. I - when this is over. Jus' remember I got things I gotta say. Promises to make."

She found, with a growing sense of horror, that her eyes were about to spill over. "Ye talk a fine tale t' get me t'agree t' being coddled," she grumbled, burying her face in his chest. He'd always been able to spin a yarn; that was part of his trade. He was known far and wide as Johnny the Storyteller, and it had taken Alanna a while to believe anything he said.

"Annie, love. Th' only way - an' I mean th' _only_ way - ye will be seein' sunlight t'day is if I send someone along." Johnny reached for her wrists, and clutched them tightly. "Understand?" She nodded, but apparently it wasn't enough. "I don't want no tricks, neither. Don't think ye can jus' slip off when nobody is lookin'. I'll chain ye t'me bed if it comes t' it."

Alanna scoffed at him, trying to tug her hands free. "Johnny Conte, yer a filthy dog. Can't help yerself, can ye?"

He kissed her, an odd, suspended feeling with her hands still trapped against his chest. Usually, touch was such a part of his kisses that she felt the absence of it keenly now, usually he was tugging her ever closer as though he wanted to combine their bodies. "Be careful."

\--

"Whatever Johnny's payin' ye, I'll pay ye double."

Raoul grinned at her, stretching his arms out. Alanna had to admit, he was a good choice for a minder, if she'd been in the mood for one. "Mayhap I'm lookin' t'spend me day bein' told off. Reminds me o' me ma."

She fixed him with a sour look, but it didn't alter his expression one iota. Finally, she sighed, knowing she was beaten. If she were inclined to admit things to herself, she might be relieved at this outcome. "Fine, ye big baby. But I got errands t' run, an' ye'd better keep yer trap shut, even t' th'King." Her accent thickened, as it always did when she was nervous.

"Oh, I won't be tellin' King George nothin'," Raoul vowed, placing his hand over his heart. "Annie, ye got me word."

"Idiot," she said affectionately, fixing her cloak over her shoulders. She hadn't been out in the Lower City since the last attack on her - which meant she hadn't encountered the Dowager Queen. Goddess be willing, Eleni would be up at the castle today; she wasn't quite sure how she could explain Annie the Rogue's Girl and Anna the King's Fancy to Raoul.

But the Trickster would insist on having his fun.

As it turned out, Raoul made for a fine companion, though Alanna, who preferred to slip through crowds unnoticed, was perturbed as people parted easily for the pair. "People always get out o' yer way, do they?"

He flashed her a smile. "Move or be crushed, that's me motto. They don't call me The Bonecrusher for nothin'."

"They don't call ye it fer anythin', neither," Alanna replied tartly, swinging her bag of supplies into his side. "Reckon I'd need a few gold nobles if I was t' call ye summat as stupid as Bonecrusher."

Their bickering continued on, even as Alanna started to drop in on the few families she'd begun to take care of, during her time in Corus. One of them, the Pattens, gave her sly nudges about her 'man', and Raoul turned a deep scarlet and explained that he was just the hired help.

She relaxed through the day as there was no sign of Eleni having been around, not even the unobtrusive guards Alanna had noticed previously. Safe, then, to visit her favourite family.

"One more stop, then home," she announced, to Raoul's evident relief. "Hands off the daughter here, mind, she's a proper beauty an' no mistake."

Gwynnen was the one to meet her at the door, but she hardly gave Raoul a second look. "Father's not well enough for everyone in Corus to come traipsing through his door," she reproached, fixing her large blue eyes on Alanna.

Alanna shrugged at Raoul. "Look, I'll be fine. I come here all th' time, don't I? I'll be in an' out 'fore ye can say 'Bonecrusher's a stupid name'." She winked at him, and stepped through the door.

"Anna, I'm so terribly sorry," Gwynnen said miserably.

Alanna still didn't get it, but as she was seized roughly and pulled into the dark front room, she started to have an inkling.

\--

"Mighty hard for a healer t' get any healin' done with two big brutes like you holding me like this," Alanna said mildly. She was, in all honesty, afraid, but if Johnny had taught her anything, it was to keep enemies talking until she could figure a way out. Two men holding her, two others in the room, if she got help, maybe she could take two of them out. Surely Raoul would come knocking for her before too long. "Is this some new regulations you got going on up at the palace? Can't let a girl heal a sick person unless she's been roughed up first?"

The tall, thin man who seemed to be their leader examined her coolly. "I have to say, I was intrigued when the king mentioned a girl who seemed to twine him around her fingers, only to vanish into thin air. I thought to myself, what kind of girl does that? Then, I turned to my good old friend, Ercole."

Alanna's stomach plummeted somewhere below her knees as the wiry frame of the Lord Provost stepped into view. 

"Ercole, here, is much better acquainted with you, Anna. Can you think why that may be?"

"Just got one of those faces, I guess," Alanna muttered, lowering her eyes to the ground. If she were lucky, and Goddess knew she must have precious little luck left, they wouldn't have tied her to Johnny specifically.

The first man, who appeared to command the deference of the Lord Provost himself and didn't _that_ worry her, called for a servant to bring some more light into the room. There was silence until he did so, during which Alanna contemplated spitting at their feet, but figured she was probably in enough trouble. "That's better. So difficult to appreciate a pretty face in the dark, wouldn't you say?"

She'd say his wife didn't get enough action judging by that, but fear was trapping her tongue. She wriggled one of her wrists in an attempt to draw down the blade there, but found the hand which held her immovable.

"Now I can see you properly, you call to mind a face I _do_ know. I could have sworn you were siblings - but then how is it that you are cavorting with a criminal, and he is up at the palace, training to be a knight of the realm?"

Thom. Goddess, she was going to be the death of everybody she cared about.

"Let me know when you fancy talkin' some sense," she said sweetly. "Haven't a hope in the Black God's Realm of figuring out what you're nattering on about at the moment."

"I would have expected you to be a better liar than that."

Alanna could feel her heart hammering away in her chest - her one small hope was that Raoul got in here soon, but she didn't want Raoul to fall into the Provost's lap either. If they were going to kill her, surely they would have done so already. Leverage, then, or maybe blackmail. "Look, I just came in here to fix the old man up, same as I do regular, like. I don't ask them for nothing, I just help them folks who can't pay fer a healer."

"Out of the goodness of your heart," he said, clearly sceptical.

"What of it?" The embers of her temper were snapping back into life. "What business do you have enterin' someone's home and grabbin' me like this?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, coming to stand directly in front of her. This meant that she was forced to tilt her head right back to look at him, but also meant she could spit in his face, if she wanted to. She shelved the thought. "My apologies, Anna. I forget that I know so much about you, and yet we have not been introduced. I am Sir Marek of Knife's Edge."

The Prime Minister - George's Prime Minister. She'd really done it this time.

In response to her silence, Marek smiled thinly. "Wonderful. I see my reputation precedes me, as much as yours does you. Now, tell me, how does a girl like you get mixed up with not one, but two kings?"

She bit down on her tongue, conscious that talking would do more harm than good in this instance.

"Mithros, you can't get Johnny the Gabber to shut up. I guess his lady would need to be the silent type, perhaps she's just not used to getting a word in edgeways."

"Leave us," Marek commanded suddenly, ignoring the Lord Provost. "Wait - take her weapons first."

They weren't gentle about stripping her of her knives. Alanna's face burned as her wrists and ankles were held and everything down to her loincloth was searched. She pulled her dress back over her head as the men departed, leaving her corset loose. 

"The Queen Mother wouldn't have liked that," she said quietly, hands shaking as she fumbled with the ties. 

Marek set his jaw. "I won't be troubling her with this. There are - regrettably - certain things that have to be done in service of the Crown."

That left Alanna feeling slightly hysterical. "Of course, why would you trouble the person _wearin'_ the thing?"

"He entrusts me with certain things." Marek's eyes were hard. She wasn't sure, even if she still had her blades, whether anything would penetrate his skin. It'd probably just blunt her weapons. "Like finding you, when you disappear for a month. Do I tell him where I found you?"

She rubbed the back of her head, almost reflexively. "I guess that's rhetorical."

"I have a proposition for you, Anna. You don't visit the palace, you don't even put a toe across Palace Way, and I'll leave your brother alone."

"If I had a brother, he wouldn't have done anything wrong."

Marek's answering shrug suggested it didn't matter.

"I won't visit the palace," she agreed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Not a toe across Palace Way," Marek pressed.

That cut half the city off.

"I've not had the pleasure of meeting your Johnny the Gabber yet, you know. I could make it a priority of mine."

"Not a toe across Palace Way," Alanna ground out obediently.

"There. Was that so difficult?"


End file.
